


Pretend To Be My Date

by LainellaFay



Series: Annoying, Nosy Colleagues [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Christmas Party, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Father/Son Incest, Forced Crossdressing, M/M, cliche mistletoe kiss, which turns into a colossal mistake
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-25
Updated: 2015-04-25
Packaged: 2018-03-25 16:11:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3816703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LainellaFay/pseuds/LainellaFay
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thranduil makes Legolas pretend to be his girlfriend for a Christmas party hosted by his annoying, nosy colleague.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretend To Be My Date

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer: I do not own The Hobbit / Lord of the Rings and any of its characters.**  
>   
> 
> This was meant to be a drabble (less than 500 words) that I would post on Tumblr while I took a short break from writing _another_ Thranduil/Legolas fic and look what happened, the word count I aimed for doubled. I'm going to hell for this. Sorry not sorry.
> 
>  
> 
> Un-beta'd.

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“I still can’t believe you’re making me do this.”

“Stop grumbling, Legolas. You’re doing _Ada_ a huge favour." 

“Couldn’t you have asked someone else?” Legolas continued to complain, tugging uneasily at the hem of his dress. He sure hoped to hell there’d be no one around who knew him, for he would _not_ be able to live it down. To think! Legolas Oropherion, wearing a dress! “Why does it have to be _me_?”

“I’ve already told you, there isn’t anyone else who’s free. Now shut your mouth and smile.” Thranduil quickly plastered a false smile onto his face and wrapped an arm around his son’s waist, noticing how Legolas visibly tensed at the action and Thranduil tried not to twitch. “Reese.”

“Thranduil!” the man, Reese, as Thranduil greeted, exclaimed. “I see you’ve finally decided to move out of your bachelor phrase; god knows it’s been far too long. How goes, young lady?”

Thranduil had to pinch Legolas before his son exploded into a rant about how he was definitely not a _girl_ despite the way he was _forced_ into dressing. Legolas responded with a sickly sweet smile, “Very good, Mr Pallot.”

Thranduil decided he owed his son _two_ cars.

Reese looked at Legolas from top to bottom, in a way that made Thranduil narrow his eyes because _his son!_ Oh the horror, perhaps he had transformed Legolas way too well, but the natural beauty of the Oropherion family made it hard to make Legolas into an ugly duckling. Thranduil hoped he would not come to regret this decision.

When Reese finally finished scrutinising his son, the man raised his eyebrows at Thranduil and asked, “Isn’t she far too young for you, Thranduil? She doesn’t look more than a teen!”

Legolas bristled—he was _twenty-one_ for heaven’s sake! He felt his father shake with laughter beside him before saying coyly, “I assure you, Mr Pallot, I am of age.”

Thranduil’s colleague laughed. “Of course. Of course. How could I think otherwise?”

 _Fake. Fake. So fake._

“Where did you find her, Thranduil?”

“Around,” his father drawled. Legolas stuck his elbow into his father’s side for the insinuation, luckily, the his father’s colleague didn’t seem to notice. “Now Reese, you can see I’m perfectly happy with Legolas here, you need not get yourself concerned over my—“

“Legolas?” Reese asked, eyebrows raised once more, this time gazing curiously at Legolas. “That’s a rather…manly name…and also rather…”

Thranduil inwardly groaned. Of all things, he had forgotten to come up with a pseudo name. Refusing to give into panic that the man would remember the name of his son by himself and thus, figuring out the whole ruse, Thranduil explained, “It’s a nickname. Sometimes she’s so much like my son I can’t help but call her by his name.” 

He heard Legolas groan softly by his side and pinched him once more. 

Now Reese was more than shocked. “That’s a bit…” Unable to utter the word, the man gestured wildly with his hands.

“Oh no, not at all,” Thranduil said, waving his hand as if it would wave away the implication. “After all, we are _definitely not_ _related_ , are we?” 

“Nope. Not at all,” Legolas lied smoothly, wishing desperately for the night to end and for him to wake up to find out that it’s nothing more than a strange, terrifying nightmare.

“Right. Of course.” Reese nodded, clasping his hands behind his back. As if deciding that the conversation was one he should be getting out off, the man looked around Thranduil’s back and after spying two more guests entering the hall, he said, “Enjoy the party, Thranduil.”

“I will,” Thranduil drawled, and they were finally freed from his colleague’s presence. Thranduil immediately released his son from his hold and said, “Let’s go get some drinks and food.”

“Can’t we just leave?” 

Thranduil eyed his son, who was fidgeting—a nasty habit. “No, that’s not polite. One has to at least stick around for an hour. Come on, Legolas.”

As they made their way towards the table piled with various dishes, someone suddenly yelled, “MISTLETOE!” Their pace was brought to a halt as they stared disbelievingly at the innocent looking sprig hanging directly above them.

Both father and son cursed their luck and darted their eyes around the hall, trying to find an escape route, but there was none. Everyone’s attention was brought onto them, thanks to the yeller, whom Thranduil cursed to hell and back, and some were already starting to chant childishly. _“Kiss, kiss, kiss.”_

Thranduil looked down at his son’s pleading eyes, and then up at Reese’s smirk, and Thranduil _knew_ the man did not believe his little ruse and he cursed everyone and everything—including himself—seven ways to hell. The chants were getting louder and louder and Thranduil felt his son’s grip tighten around his wrist in fright.

Thranduil gave his son his best apologetic look and he saw the horror in his son’s eyes before leaning down to plant a quick peck onto Legolas’s lips.

A quick peck. That was all he planned to do. Thranduil swore on his life. That was it.

But it was as if their lips were opposite poles on a magnet, they stuck together and the kiss deepened. Thranduil could barely hear the cheers of the other party guests and only his own heartbeat rang out and clear; beating so fast, something he haven’t experienced ever since Legolas’s mother and it was as if that thought of his late wife—his son’s—the son he was kissing— _mother_ that he came back to his senses and wrenched himself away from his son.

Identical blue eyes stared deep into each other as they panted, flushed. Legolas gulped and Thranduil found himself following the bead of perspiration that ran down his son’s nose, over his red, swollen lips, before disappearing down the turtleneck of his dress. Thranduil didn’t notice the same way Legolas was watching him, eyes dilating with lust as Legolas watched his father flustered; an expression he was not used to seeing on his ever calm and composed father, but there was one thought that crossed both their minds.

_Fuck._


End file.
